


To Hold the Stone

by fallenfromluster



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Can be read as gen, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Movie: Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 09:41:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11399988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallenfromluster/pseuds/fallenfromluster
Summary: "There weren’t many beings in the universe who could claim to have held the Power Stone and survived." You can't expect to hold an Infinity Stone and escape unscathed. Peter has tried, but he's starting to fall apart. Fortunately, he's got Rocket, a violent but stalwart friend.





	To Hold the Stone

There weren’t many beings in the universe who could claim to have held the Power Stone and survived. In fact, Peter knew just three others. So, there weren’t many people to ask about the dreams. They’d started right after Ronan’s defeat, but they were manageable. After being offered the power to consume the galaxy from his insane, power-crazed, god/planet/”father”, they were relentless. Because that’s what the Stone was, an offer. In those seconds when he and his new family held the Stone. It hadn’t hurt. Well it did—his skin was peeling off his body, flayed by purple flame—but that wasn’t why he screamed. Everyone outside the swirling cloud saw only light, dust, and chaos; they didn’t see what Peter saw. The Stone spoke to him, not with words, but something deeper. It was a promise of ultimate freedom made to every cell, every molecule, every atom that they could rip apart, come together, do _anything_. Everything vibrated, and he so desperately wanted to whisper, “Yes.” After all the Guardians made contact with him, he regained clarity and refused the offer, before annihilating Ronan. “You said it yourself, bitch. We’re the Guardians of the Galaxy,” was still the best thing he’d ever said, and he’d practiced cool lines in the mirror for years.

The night after, collapsed in a hospital bed on Xandar, he dreamt that he was larger, much larger. The city spread before him, and people were running, screaming, but they seemed so insignificant. He didn’t feel anything; he was just, just cold. And then he noticed the staff in his hands and panicked. It held the Stone. Swirling destruction surrounded the head, and it, he, wanted so much to bring it down on the planet. He raised the staff and slammed it through the building below him. As soon as it touched the ground, all sound stopped. The atmosphere wind dyed and a purple flash went out. Then the people just evaporated. All hope and dreams were destroyed. He surveyed a barren and perfect world. Peter woke up screaming. The doctors thought he was having a flashback and just upped the dose of sedative.

After receiving the repaired Milano from the Nova Core, things were fine for a while. The team did a few missions—a bit of good, a bit of bad—but he couldn’t help thinking about the dream. There was something about it that was infectious. He decided to ask Gamora during the middle of a firefight.

“Gamora, you remember that hologram the Collector showed us, the one with the planet being destroyed?”

“Is this really the time Peter?” Gamora sounded annoyed but Peter knew she was used to his antics and even enjoyed them a little.

“Well Rocket looks like he has it under control.” Rocket had pulled out what he called ‘The Big Gun’ and was sprinting across the warehouse firing wildly.

“I’m not sure,” an explosion rained down debris on the pair, “that we have the same definition of under control.”

“Anyway, do you think that actually happened?”

Gamora stilled and turned away from the soon to be over shootout between Rocket and a guy hiding behind a shipping container. “Yes. I’m sure it did. Ronan was going to do that to Xandar. We stopped him. Why do you bring this up now?”

Peter didn’t want to tell her the whole story. They may have been family now, but he was still new to this. “I saw one of the purple lasers these dumbasses were firing and it just hit me.” Gamora looked worried by Peter’s tone, but dropped it when Rocket waved them over.

“Quill, get a look at this loser. He’s stuck halfway through the wall like an idiot.”

And the dreams continued every few weeks. He was in the Collector’s facility. And the Stone was right there, within reach, and he grabbed it. His, no her, sister had been put into one of the Collector’s chambers a few weeks ago. And she’d watched her suffer day after day. She wasn’t sure what the things stuck in her head by the Collector did, but her sister alternated between a vacant stare and sobbing, so it had to be something horrible. The Collector made her clean the glass surrounding her sister every day, and each day it was worse. There was no way out. He or one of his lackeys watched her every moment. There was no future, no hope. And then there was the Stone. All doubt was gone when she grabbed it. “I will no longer be your slave.” It had promised that. She’d be free. And as the lights swirled and glass smashed, it whispered, “Freedom, dissolution, an end, _revenge_.”

Peter could handle nightmares, after all, his adopted father had threatened to feed him to the Ravagers multiple times. And he was happy, maybe for the first time in years. He had a family. Gamora still rolled her eyes at least once a day, but seemed to enjoy his company. Drax was terrifying and constantly mocked him, but Peter had found a few jokes that Drax actually understood and laughed at. Rocket still swore everytime Peter came into his work room, but he’d warmed up a bit and tapped his foot occasionally when Peter played a song. Peter thought he was getting closer to actually petting Rocket. And Groot, well Groot was tiny and still limited to three words, but Peter thought they were sounding more affectionate each day.

A few weeks before he met Ego, he had a dream which left him unsettled, however. He was in a metal vault with barely any light, and there was a body in front of him laid out on the altar. He was alone, and he was crying. The body belonged to his father. He looked different in death. He’d been so strong and powerful, but now his eyes were vacant and his whole left leg was ripped off. His battle makeup was still there but parts had been washed away by sweat and blood. The Xandarians had killed him, just like they killed every member of his family. He was scared. He was next. Fear turned to rage turned to hate and he took his father’s hammer. Years slipped by, but Peter could only feel the pain. “Master you cannot, Thanos is the most powerful being in the Universe.”

“Not anymore.” And then his hand hit the Stone. And it was both the most painful and happiest moment of his life. Possibilities unfurled, most involving Xandar as a flaming wasteland. He watched Xandar consumed in fire, Thanos broken beneath his foot, and his father proud, until he slammed the Stone into his hammer. The ecstasy lasted throughout the Dark Aster’s descent, even through the crash, until he saw himself dancing. “What are you DOING?” He could handle setbacks like a crashed ship, but being mocked, here when he was ending a thousand years of war? It was too much.

“Distracting you, ya big turd-blossom.” As the hammer shattered, the whispers stopped. The dream ended, and Peter was back on the Milano clutching at the sheets. Peter got up, went to the kitchen and made himself coffee, which for some reason was even a thing in space.

“You okay, Quill? You look whiter than that Collector freak and that’s saying something.”

Peter turned and saw Rocket yawning in the doorway. “Yeah I’m okay, just a bad dream.” Peter glanced at his cup and stayed quiet.

Rocket sighed. “I’m no stranger to nightmares. You saw the implants. They weren’t exactly delivered nicely. I was awake throughout most of the surgeries. Look, if you,” Peter had turned back to Rocket and saw him rubbing his face, “if you want to talk about it sometime, you can talk to me. You ain’t so bad for a humie, and I’ve noticed that you and sleep haven’t been a thing recently.”

“Thanks, Rocket.” Peter wanted to hug his pal, but that seemed way beyond Rocket’s comfort level, so he settled for holding his fist out. And Rocket actually touched his paw to Peter’s fist. Peter considered it a small victory.

“So where are we flying today, Starlord?”

“Why don’t you decide?”

And that’s what lead them to protecting the god damn batteries from that interdimensional _thing_ , fleeing the Sovereign, meeting Ego, blowing up a planet, and watching his father, Yondu, die. He’d watched Yondu struggle for breath as ice crept across his eyes and skin. And there wasn’t anything he could do out in the black emptiness. Peter just shut himself off in his quarters for three days. He’d spent the time listening to the Zune, drinking Xandarian whiskey, and crying, until Rocket cut his way through the door with a modified laser gun.

“You know that’ll be expensive to fix.”

“I don’t really care about the price of doors, Quill. I care about you.”

Peter sobbed into the pillow, then sat back up on the bed. He was nervous when he asked, “What did you and Yondu talk about on the ship?”

Rocket didn’t quite know how to respond. Him and feelings weren’t exactly friends. He got out of most situations by shooting a few holes through them, but this was Peter, so he just dropped the gun, and said, “I won’t talk speciferifics, but it was mostly about why I’m always trying to piss you off and why I was coming to rescue you. Look, you know I’m always pushing people away. It’s because I don’t think they’ll ever stay. Yondu was the same way. He loved you.” Rocket padded over to the human’s bed and hugged him around the neck. “Don’t ever tell anyone I did this,” Rocket whispered.

“I won’t.” Rocket padded back out and Peter was sure that Gamora and Drax also wanted to talk to him, but he needed to sleep. In his dream he was ascending through the atmosphere with Yondu. “What are you doing? You can’t. Yondu!” He watched the frost creep over Yondu’s face and smile. Yondu had accepted his fate, but Peter could not. In the darkness, Peter found a light. Purple flowed along his arms as he pulled the atmosphere up from the planet and wrapped it around Yondu, letting him breathe. Yondu just stared at Peter’s eyes burning with the Stone’s light. He looked terrified. Peter woke up in his room. The hole in his door let in the light from the hall, but otherwise, it was dark.

Peter knew Rocket would be pissed, but he had offered to talk, and Peter was desperate. He knocked on the door, waited a minute, then started walking away. “Yeah, waddaya want?” Rocket was in the doorway rubbing his eyes.

“You said we could talk, like about nightmares?”

Rocket must have been going soft, because he almost smiled at the humie shifting nervously in the hall. “Yeah come in. Mind the plasma rifle on the floor, don’t want you tripping and getting blood everywhere.”

Peter followed Rocket in mutely and stood awkwardly by Rocket’s bed until Rocket rolled his eyes and gestured for Peter to sit on the bed. Peter was silent for a few minutes, but then asked, “Do you ever dream about the Stone? Like not about the Stone itself, but it’s in the dream?” Rocket stilled and Peter blanched. “It’s not important, I can go.” Peter started to get up but Rocket grabbed his hand and pulled him back down. For being outwheighed by a hundred and fifty pounds, Rocket was surprisingly strong.

“Yeah, yeah I do, but some don’t seem like no dream.” Rocket froze for a second, “You remember that girl in that albino weirdo’s base?  I remember her thoughts. She was trapped, like I was trapped. He did things to her, her family, and she couldn’t get away.” Rocket sobbed for a few seconds, before calming himself and sitting motionless on the bed.

“I’ve remembered that too. Could I, could I, hug you?” Peter recoiled when he said it and expected a bite or gun held to his head, but Rocket just crawled closer. Peter wrapped his arms around his buddy before continuing. “Have you had other dreams though, like not the memories of other people, but offers for stuff that didn’t happen?”

“What do you mean offer, Quill?”

“Like stuff that you wanted to happen, but couldn’t. I saw Yondu asphyxiating, and I saved him.” Peter glanced away. “I mean, like situations where you didn’t have control, but in the dream, you had it.”

Rocket wasn’t sure that he wanted to share this, but Peter looked so earnest and he’d gone soft on the humie. “You’ve seen the implants, Quill. I got them on Halfworld. They’d kept me awake throughout the surgeries. They didn’t care; I was just some animal to them. I escaped by stealing a ship with Groot. It was the first time I’d felt happy in my life. In the dream, I stop the ship and wait until the pursuing ships are right on top of me, then smile. The controls light up with purple flame and I blast them into nothing. It’d never been easier to fire a cannon. Then I turn the ship around and dive toward the planet. Those krootakin idiots had no idea what was coming. Groot’s scared but I’m certain.” Rocket had to stop for a minute because he was breathing too hard. “As I’m descending the fire from reentry turns purple. Groot tries to grab the controls, but I just push harder. It ends with the ship plunging into the crust and the mantle surging up to burn everything.”

Rocket was shivering and Peter was speechless. Rocket looked up at him, but didn’t say anything else. Peter had dreamt about his father dying, but Rocket was dreaming of an apocalypse. And if Peter’s experience was anything to go by, this had been happening for months. “Rocket. I want you to know I’m not leaving tonight. You can kick me out of your bed, but I’m at least going to lay by the door.”

“You can stay,” Rocket mumbled and grabbed Peter’s arm tighter. Peter had come to Rocket’s room because of his dreams, but it seemed that Rocket needed him too. He suspected that Gamora and Drax probably were in similar situations, but for right now, he needed to stay. So, he just laid down, pulled Rocket against his chest and closed his eyes. In the morning, it was awkward. Rocket’s aversion to being touched returned momentarily and Rocket had scratched his arm before apologizing and guiltily fetched Peter breakfast. Peter didn’t think the dreams were over, but at least he’d found someone to talk to.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I'm still experimenting with writing. If you've got the time, let me know what you liked and disliked in the comments. Hope you're all having a good day!


End file.
